


safe with you

by timshl



Category: Mamamoo
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Break Up, Yes you read that right, do i need to tag for that? tagging just in case, menstrual cramps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:14:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29110644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timshl/pseuds/timshl
Summary: Yongsun and Byulyi may have broken up a month ago, but that doesn't mean they don't still care for each other.
Relationships: Kim Yongsun | Solar/Moon Byulyi | Moonbyul
Comments: 13
Kudos: 114





	safe with you

Yongsun is in the middle of a presentation when her phone pings loudly to notify her of an incoming text. The sound reverberates in the quiet meeting room, and she’s immediately flustered. 

“Ah, I’m so sorry, I thought it was on silent. Hold on, let me just—” 

She hastily fishes her phone from her pocket, and then freezes when she sees the name on the screen. 

_**Byulyi:** 1 new message _

After a whole month of radio silence, she can’t help the way her heart feels like it’s caught in her throat, and she’s a breath away from swiping right to open up the text—

“Yongsun-ssi?” It’s her boss, Sooyoung, peering at her questioningly, a slight frown creasing her brow. “Would you like to continue, please?” 

“Yes—yes, of course, I’m sorry.” She switches her phone to silent mode with slightly shaky hands and slides it back into her pocket. She has to stare at the current slide on her laptop for a good few seconds to recall where she left off, and by the time she resumes her presentation, she knows her cheeks are flushed.

 _Very unprofessional, Yongsun,_ she chides herself. 

“Um, as I was saying, since Yuna’s blindfolded food-tasting series is performing so well, I thought it would be timely to start planning for a few more series to introduce to her channel in the future. Here are a few ideas I came up with: first…”

She doesn’t quite know how she manages it, but she gets through the rest of her presentation without further incident. Infamously impossible-to-please Sooyoung even bestows a gruff “good job” upon her when she’s done. She accepts the compliment in a daze, mind already on the text message waiting to be read. 

She waits till she’s back at her desk before she takes out her phone once more and opens up KakaoTalk with a heady mix of apprehension and anticipation.

_**Byulyi:** I still have some things left in your apartment, mind if I drop by on Saturday afternoon to pick them up? (14:33) _

Yongsun doesn’t know what she hoped for, exactly, but it’s not _this_. 

She plops down heavily in her chair, the adrenaline draining out from her at record speed. _What did you expect, stupid? Another puppy picture?_

She isn’t an idiot—she knows that their last fight was way too big to be resolved via text, so she only has herself to blame for being unrealistic. As usual. All things considered, she’s surprised that she’s been dealing with their breakup so well. Though, that might have something to do with the fact that she still can’t quite believe that it’s over. 

_It can’t be_ , she’s rationalised, _not just like that_. Byulyi is, for lack of a less cheesy word, her soulmate. In this life and the next. Yongsun knows that for a fact. Which is why she’s thought long and hard, over the past one month, and come up with a plan. Grand gestures are usually Byulyi’s forte, which is why it’s going to be extra special when Yongsun pulls one off. 

She already knows more or less what she wants to say. Regarding the actual details, however—she hasn’t quite gotten there yet. She’s been, well, not _putting it off_ exactly—but perhaps there’s still a tiny niggling doubt remaining in the corner of her mind that gives her pause. 

It’s this sliver of doubt that gets foregrounded when she reads the text again. And again. And again. And then it finally hits her. Byulyi wants to pick up the last of her stuff. Which means...she isn’t planning on coming back. 

Her phone screen has gone black from inactivity, and Yongsun resists the urge to open up the text again. She hates how bland and formal it is, no emojis or kekekes or a fond “dduni”. She hates that the message above it is dated a month and three days ago. There’s a sinking feeling in her chest that she doesn’t know how to deal with. 

“Yongsun-ssi?”

She snaps her head up to see her boss standing impatiently by her desk. Sooyoung doesn’t wait for her to respond before bulldozing on.

“I thought a bit more about it, and I’ve changed my mind about holding off on preparations till November. I think we should start now, to have it in time for the launch of Ryujin’s new channel. Can you come up with the preliminary storyboards for all three concepts by, say, next Monday?” 

“Monday?” Yongsun echoes dumbly. That’s only a week away. 

“Great, I’ll look forward to it then!” And then Sooyoung speeds away, leaving Yongsun staring after her in mild disbelief. 

That’s how she ends up working overtime till 10pm for the rest of the week, chugging on coffee (even though she hates coffee) to stay awake, having instant ramen for dinner, and feeling like a corporate zombie on her commute to and from her office. 

There’s no time at all to even think about Byulyi (apart from texting back a brief “okay sure”), which explains why she also completely forgets that her period is due to start soon, even though she religiously tracks her cycle every month to make sure to adjust her diet and sleeping habits accordingly in order to stave away the worst of the cramps. She only realises when she wakes up on Saturday morning and goes to pee, and by then it’s too late.

She stares blankly at the small red blot on the cotton panel of her underwear for a good few seconds, brain still fuzzy from sleep, before she finally processes what’s happened. 

“Fuck.” 

Her mind immediately goes into panic mode, because her period pains are at best excruciating, even when she chugs water, survives almost primarily on salmon and vegetables, and sleeps nine hours every night, beginning a full week in advance of the first day of her period. 

This week: she’s been drinking _coffee_ , for god’s sake. 

“Oh my god,” she murmurs shakily, before she pulls herself together. Her cramps don’t usually start till a few hours later, so she still has some time. To do what, except for mentally prepare, she’s honestly not sure. 

She’s standing in the middle of kitchen, chomping mechanically on a banana, when her phone pings. 

_**Byulyi:** I’ll be there around 2pm for my things (09:44) _

“Fuck,” she swears, for the second time that day. She completely forgot. How the hell could she forget? She stuffs the rest of the banana down her throat and busies herself with gathering Byulyi’s things into a mid-sized cardboard box she finds in the storeroom. 

There’s a whole assortment of Byulyi’s things scattered around the apartment, and extricating them from where they’ve nestled is...harder than she expected. A black cap and hoodie hanging on the coat hanger by the door, tubes of lip balm in the coffee table drawer, a wooden-backed hairbrush with missing bristles. A toothbrush parked beside Yongsun’s own in the toilet, two sets of pyjamas in Yongsun’s closet, bottles of moisturiser and creams on Yongsun’s dressing table. 

By the time she’s done, she’s fighting back the urge to cry. She sets the box on the dining table, and before she can think better of it, fishes out one of Byulyi’s oversized sweatshirts. _Byulyi won’t miss it,_ she tells herself as she heads back to her room to stuff it in her t-shirt drawer.

She has to be allowed to keep _something_ , right?

She flops back into bed once she’s stashed the shirt away. It’s not even 11am, and she already feels exhausted. No sooner has the thought crossed her mind than she feels a tell-tale tightening in her lower stomach. Groaning aloud, she forces herself to get up and look for her heat pack. 

Within an hour, her cramps have escalated from dull tenses-and-releases to massive shooting contractions that throb through her entire midsection, and it’s all she can do to stagger out of bed, heat pack clutched to her stomach, to retrieve the pack of Ibuprofen that she keeps in her kitchen cabinet—only to find that it’s not there. She must have used it all up last month. 

She stares numbly at the empty spot on the shelf for a few moments before another cramp hits and she doubles over in pain. Nausea rises in her chest, and yup, there’s no way she’s going to be able to make her way to the pharmacy five blocks away in this state. She will just have to deal without painkillers today.

Somehow. 

She at least has the presence of mind to unlock the front door before heading back to her bedroom, drawing the curtains, and collapsing in bed. She taps out a quick text to Byulyi: 

_yoru things are on the dining rable. the door's unlocked, you can jsut come in and get them layer_

The next few hours feel akin to the fever-induced nightmares she had as a child, with the added sensation of being stabbed repeatedly in the stomach. The pain has spread to her thighs, she feels constantly on the brink of puking, and she can’t move her head without feeling like a nail is being drilled through her skull. All she can do is lie in bed in the dark and try to be as still as she can—which is near impossible, given that she can’t help curling in on herself with a pained groan every time a particularly painful cramp pulses through her body. It feels like her uterus is being wrung out like a towel and then ripped apart, every time. The constant ache in her lower back is almost unbearable.

She doesn’t know how long she’s there for, whimpering in pain with her eyes screwed shut (because light only makes her headache worse), to all extents completely incapacitated but unable to fall asleep. 

_The first day is always the worst_ , she tells herself repeatedly. _It can’t get any worse than this_. 

She doesn’t realise someone has entered the house until she hears a loud clatter, followed by a muted curse. She’s perplexed for a moment before realising that it must be Byulyi, come to pick up her things. It’s testament to how far gone she is in pain that there’s no anxiety tagged to the realisation.

“Yongsun?” 

God, she’s missed Byulyi’s voice. And oh, is it two in the afternoon already? 

“Yongsun? Are you home?” Byulyi calls again, when she doesn’t reply. 

She’s half tempted to shout at Byulyi to go away, but she knows she’ll only embarrass herself if she does that, so she tugs the blanket over her bare legs to make herself more presentable. 

“In here,” she calls out weakly, bracing herself and shielding her face with the back of her hand so Byulyi doesn’t have to see what an absolute mess she looks. 

She hears the door open—thanks to the squeaky hinge Byulyi never got around to fixing—and senses a presence come to stand in the doorway. 

“I thought you were out, when I saw your…” Byulyi trails off. She doesn’t speak for a few moments, and Yongsun feels intensely vulnerable, knowing that Byulyi’s eyes are on her. “Are you sick?” she finally asks, and the formal edge to her voice is jarring and alienating and kind of makes Yongsun want to scream. 

“No. I got my period today,” she whispers (it hurts to speak), knowing Byulyi will understand. She’s helped Yongsun through several agonising periods, after all, and probably knows better than anyone how debilitating they can be. 

She fights back a whimper as another shot of pain pulses through her abdomen, radiating angrily through to her lower back. She can’t help the way her face contorts, though, and knows Byulyi won’t have missed it. 

There’s another long pause, then she hears footsteps approaching the bed, and a cool, dry hand coming to rest on her forehead. 

“You feel a bit warm,” Byulyi says quietly, her voice now soft and somehow incredibly calming. “What time did you last take your painkillers?” 

“I didn’t take any—I ran out.” 

“You ran—jesus, unnie, have you been lying here the whole day like this?” 

“It hasn’t been the whole day,” she lies defensively, even though it takes way too much energy to project any sort of emotion at all. “And I have my heat pack,” she adds, gesturing vaguely to the side of the bed where she thinks she tossed the heat pack once it cooled down, to prove that she’s not _completely_ useless at taking care of herself. 

She hears a rustle of sheets as Byulyi leans over her body to pick up the heat pack. 

“It’s not even hot anymore,” she reproaches. 

“Well, it can’t stay hot forever, can it now,” she replies testily, then regrets her tone immediately. It might be cowardly, but it helps that she has an excuse not to open her eyes, because she really doesn’t want to see the expression on Byulyi’s face right now. 

Byulyi sighs, and then walks away without a word.

Disappointment overwhelms her for a good few seconds, surpassing her body’s physical pain. _Don’t be stupid, Yongsun,_ she tells herself angrily, _she doesn’t owe you anything anymore._ The thought only has the effect of making her feel like crying, and god, does she feel absolutely miserable right now. 

Then she hears the sound of the microwave door being opened, and a series of beeps, followed by a tell-tale low buzzing, and oh. Byulyi didn’t leave, after all. She lies completely still and battles with her emotions for long enough that she doesn’t realise when Byulyi re-enters the room. 

There’s the clink of a glass being set down on the bedside table, and Yongsun peeks a little to see Byulyi’s hands come to hover over the top of the blanket. 

“Heat pack,” she says shortly but not unkindly. “Can I…?” 

“Yeah.” 

She helps Byulyi pull the blanket down and lift the hem of her shirt up, and lets her position the heat pack over her lower stomach. The immediate warmth feels heavenly, blotting out the constant pulsing ache, and she groans softly at the relief. 

Byulyi lifts the heat pack off of her skin immediately. “Is it too hot?” 

“Ah, no, this is good. It feels good.” 

“Okay. Make sure to put it over your shirt if it gets too hot. Don’t leave it against your skin for too long.” 

“Mm. I know.” 

She looks up at Byulyi for the first time that day—and is taken aback to discover that she’s cut her hair. The bluntly-cut bob falls around her chin and frames her face to an unusually feminine effect, and it’s so different from before, but she looks _good_.

The room is dim and Byulyi’s face is in shadow, but Yongsun can’t help but stare and desperately try to match this Byulyi to the one in her memory. It’s only been a month since they were last face to face, but it might well have been a lifetime, considering how closely intertwined their day to day lives were before their break up. 

Apart from the hair, everything else seems much the same as before. Though with her hair like this, Byulyi looks curiously softer, and younger too. For some reason, this elicits a strange, sad ache in Yongsun’s chest—perhaps it’s the knowledge that Byulyi has changed, however superficially, in the short time they were apart. 

The restrainedly neutral expression on Byulyi’s face is also new; that hurts too. 

Byulyi looks away first. “There’s a cup of water on your bedside table, you have to stay hydrated. And you’re right, you’re out of painkillers, I checked. I’ll go to the pharmacy now to get some, I don’t know how you’ve managed to go this long without it.”

“No it’s okay, you don’t have to, I’ll be fine—” 

“It won’t take long.” And then she’s out of the room before Yongsun can say anything else.

There’s nothing to do now but wait for her to return, so she closes her eyes and focuses on the heat spreading through her abdomen, and on steadying her breaths through the bursts of coiling tightness in her womb, that are fortunately becoming less intense. The heat pack provides blessed relief, and she’s suddenly aware of how tired she is, and how heavy her limbs feel, and if she just tries to clear her mind… 

She next awakes with a pained cry, to the sensation of her uterus collapsing in on itself with the ferocity of a dying star, and the fervent wish that she could just rip it out and be _done_ with this once and for all. Byulyi is kneeling by her side of the bed within seconds, holding out two pink pills and a cup of water. 

“Hey, it’s okay, look, I got you Ibuprofen. Can you sit up a bit—”

It takes more effort than it should, but she manages to power through the headache and the nausea to lift her head enough to let Byulyi slip the pill into her mouth and bring the cup to her lips. She collapses back with a moan after swallowing, and is momentarily overcome by a wave of terror that she might actually be dying, because her periods have always been bad, but never before have they been _this_ bad. She’s so scared, and angry, and frustrated at the fact that her own body is punishing her like this for no apparent reason, that she starts to cry. 

“Oh, Yong, shh, it’s okay, you’re going to be okay,” Byulyi soothes, stroking her hair back from her forehead. “This will pass, the painkillers should kick in soon, you’ll be alright.” 

The rhythmic strokes of Byulyi’s hand through her hair feel incredibly calming, and Yongsun tries to focus on that instead of on the way her entire body feels like it’s breaking down. It’s more than a little embarrassing, but this is far from the first time she’s cried over period pains. Previously Byulyi would cuddle and sing to her through it, and never once accuse her of overreacting—but that’s far too much to expect from her now. Byulyi always made everything better, she realises, and the thought makes her cry even harder. 

“Shh, it’s okay, baby, you’ll be okay,” Byulyi croons, then the hand on her head disappears.

There’s the sound of movement—and then Byulyi is slipping into bed next to her and pulling her close. Yongsun burrows instinctively into her embrace, craving the blessed comfort of physical touch. 

“Don’t worry Yong, I’ve got you,” Byulyi murmurs, as she draws slow strokes up and down her back. “It’s okay, you’ll be okay, this will be over soon.” It feels so incredibly soothing that it’s easy to forget that Byulyi isn’t actually her girlfriend anymore. 

They stay like this for a while, Yongsun sniffling as she calms down from her panicked outburst, until Byulyi extricates herself and prompts her to turn over onto her stomach so she can properly knead strong hands into her lower back. The regular firm pressure helps to diffuse the pain somewhat, but it’s mostly Byulyi’s presence that helps her feel less afraid and alone, and enables her to bear the pain better. 

Yongsun doesn’t know how long they stay like this, Byulyi never letting up on her massage even though her arms have to be sore by now—but eventually the Ibuprofen kicks in, the cramps ease, the heavy fog in her mind dissipates, and she starts to feel more like a human being again. 

“You can stop now,” she mumbles eventually, turning her head to the side to look blearily up at her ex-girlfriend, who’s kneeling beside her on the bed, hunched over to reach her back. The position looks uncomfortable. “I feel better now.” 

Byulyi hums in reply, but continues to dig the heels of her palms into Yongsun’s lower back and slide deep strokes up towards her shoulders, in the way that Yongsun likes. She does this enough times that Yongsun feels like she could melt into the mattress. 

“Okay, done,” Byulyi finally says and shifts back into a sitting position, stretching her arms above her head and arching her back with a wince. 

Now that the pain has subsided and Yongsun feels capable of clear thought again, the reality of the situation finally hits her. Byulyi is here, in her home, in her _bed_. She has to do _something_. She’s still trying to figure out what to say when Byulyi speaks. 

“Unnie—you’ve really got to go see a gynaecologist and get this checked. Period cramps are generally awful for everyone, but they definitely aren’t supposed to be _this_ bad. I already gave you the contact of the doctor my sister sees, you should give her a call. Or someone else, if you’d rather. But you can’t carry on like this every month. It might be something serious and I’ve—I’ve _told_ you this so many times already.” There’s an undeniable edge of frustration in her voice, and it’s so familiar that Yongsun feels a sharp pang in her chest. 

She rolls onto her side to face Byulyi, who is sitting cross-legged with her back against the headboard and gazing down at her hands in her lap. 

“I know. I’ll get it looked at, I promise.”

Byulyi looks like she’s struggling to reply, and when she speaks, a hint of defeat threads painfully through her words. “Why haven’t you already? You kept putting it off, and it’s been so long, and it can’t be that you don’t see the seriousness of it, and…I don’t understand. Are you—are you doing this to spite me?” 

“Of course not,” Yongsun replies immediately, horrified that Byulyi can even come to that conclusion, but already Byulyi is wincing and shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, that was childish, forget I said it.” 

There’s another silence, which is when Yongsun makes her decision. She carefully pushes herself up into a sitting position, ignoring the low-level ache that still permeates through her entire body despite the worst of the cramps being temporarily held at bay. She self-consciously tries to smooth down her hair, knowing that she must look a right mess, but this is too important to delay any longer. The grand gesture can wait. 

“Byul-ah,” she begins softly. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m sorry.”

Byulyi immediately stiffens, her gaze not moving from where it’s fixed on the bedspread. 

Yongsun soldiers on, determined for the apology she’s rehearsed in her head over the past month to finally see the light of day. “I feel horrible about what I said to you.” It’s not necessary to specify that she’s referring to their big fight.

“It was awful of me, and completely out of line. I was frustrated, and I lost my temper, and I—I didn’t mean it. I know how lame that sounds, but it’s true. I’d take it all back if I could. I don’t think you’re controlling, or overbearing. You’re just...protective of the people in your life.” 

She takes a deep breath. “And that’s one of the reasons why I fell in love with you in the first place. Because you take such good care of the people around you. Like you’re taking care of me now. And it was wrong of me to take that for granted. I’m sorry that I hurt you, and I hope—I hope it’s not too late for you to forgive me.” 

She feels a little shaky once the words are out. She’s come to terms with the possibility that Byulyi might not accept her apology, but that doesn’t make the prospect any less scary. Because if there’s anything the past month has made clear, it’s that life without Byulyi is dull, empty, and near unbearable. 

Though the fact that Byulyi’s here now—that has to mean something, right? 

“I missed you,” Byulyi finally replies, her voice so low that it’s barely audible. “The last few weeks—I missed you so much. And I got so angry at myself for missing you.” She looks up, and it kills Yongsun to see how utterly dejected she looks _._ “It made me feel so pathetic. To realise that I still cared so much, even after what you said.” 

“I’m sorry,” Yongsun whispers, wishing desperately that she could reverse time and make it so that she never becomes the reason for the current expression on Byulyi’s face. “You don’t know how much I regret it. And I—I missed you too. You’re one of the most important people in my life, Byul. Nothing has changed that. I still love you.” 

Byulyi reacts with a sharp intake of breath, and she blinks rapidly as if trying to hold back tears. “I’m sorry, too. You’re not selfish or uncaring, not at all. You’re one of the most generous people I know. It was unfair of me to say that just because I wasn’t—wasn’t happy about some things.” 

“I guess this makes us even, then?” Yongsun jokes wryly, and is relieved to see the corners of Byulyi’s lips quirk up briefly. 

Before she loses her nerve, she continues in a rush: “I want to try again. Us being together, I mean. But only if that’s what you want, because I completely understand if you don’t want this anymore. But what we had...it’s too precious to me to just let it go. I know there’s a lot we have to work through, but I just kind of. Never want to be apart from you again. If I’m being honest.” 

Byulyi’s eyes are wide and surprised, but she doesn’t look mad or disgusted, which further emboldens Yongsun.

“But if we _do_ try again—you have to talk to me, Byul. You have to tell me if there’s something bothering you, or if I’ve done something to upset you.” She can’t help the pleading note that enters her voice then. “I’ll try harder, I promise, but I can’t guess what you’re feeling all the time. You have to let me know.” 

Byulyi’s expression twists and she ducks her head. “I can try. It’s—you know that it’s hard for me.” She exhales heavily, clears her throat, looks back up with slightly watery eyes. “But for you, for this—I’ll try. Also, what you said just now, about being apart—me too. As in, let’s not ever try that again.” She bites her lip anxiously. “It hurts too much.”

“Is that a yes, then? To giving us another shot?” 

Byulyi treats Yongsun to a small, brave smile, the first of the day. “I guess—yes. Yes it is.” 

Yongsun’s heart feels so full that it almost hurts. “Can I kiss you?” 

That elicits a small laugh, and oh, this might be what Yongsun’s missed the most about Byulyi. “You don’t have to ask permission for that,” Byulyi tells her softly, before slowly leaning in to press their lips together. 

The brief, close-lipped kiss is chaste by any standard, but Yongsun still feels like a giddy school girl, lips tingling and heart beating fast after Byulyi pulls away. She can’t resist the urge to lift her hands to cup either side of Byulyi’s face and pull her in again for another longer, deeper kiss. Byulyi makes a small sound of surprise, followed by a soft moan high in her throat as she parts her lips, and this definitely also ranks high on the list of things Yongsun has missed. 

“Your hair looks really pretty like this,” she tells Byulyi once they’ve parted, idly tucking her hair behind her ear. “I like it. When did you get it cut?” 

“About a week after we broke up. It was an impulse thing. You know, the infamous post-breakup haircut.” 

Yongsun laughs. “You’re lucky that it was a good impulse.” 

“What do you mean? All my impulses are good,” Byulyi declares innocently, then her expression morphs into something more serious as she rests a hand over Yongsun’s waist. “How are you feeling now, by the way? Does it still hurt? Are you still having cramps?” 

“Not right now, though I think they’ll come back again…but I feel a lot better thanks to the Ibuprofen. I still feel really tired, though.”

Byulyi is shaking her head. “I can’t believe you didn’t have any painkillers on hand. You _know_ how bad the first day of your period can be. I don’t even want to think about how much pain you might still be in right now if I hadn’t come by.” She sounds more upset than angry, and Yongsun is quick to reassure her. 

“But you did come. And I’m okay now, thanks to you. You always take the best care of me,” she adds seriously, taking Byulyi’s hand in hers and squeezing. 

“Also. About seeing a doctor.” She hesitates, before deciding that it’s best to bite the bullet and be honest about this, after so long of not daring to admit her true worry in fear that putting it into words might actually make it come true. “The real reason why I’ve been putting it off is that I’m scared.” 

There, she’s said it now. 

“I know it only makes sense to find out if there’s anything wrong, but at the same time...I’m scared of finding out that there really _is_ something wrong with me. I know we haven’t talked much about this, but I. Really want to become a mum one day? And I know there are other options, and of course I know that not being able to carry a child won’t ever make me less of a mother, but still. Carrying a baby, and giving birth to one—it’s just something that I want for myself. At least once in this lifetime. And I know it’s a silly reason to put off something so important, but I can’t help it.” 

“It’s not silly,” Byulyi says, so calmly and steadily that Yongsun feels immediately soothed. “I won’t pretend to know how you feel, but I understand why you’re scared. And I know there’s nothing I can do to change anything, but if you think it will help, we can go to see the doctor together? I mean, there’s still a huge chance that it might not be anything that serious at all! But whatever it is, we’ll face it together. Yong, I—I can’t tell you not to worry. But you're not alone in this, I promise.” 

Byulyi’s gaze on her is serious and kind and anchoring all at once, and Yongsun feels a great warmth spreading through her chest. She fervently thanks whatever higher power that may exist that she has Byulyi back in her life, because she can’t comprehend how she ever thought she would be able to live without the person she loves most in the whole world. 

She surges forward, throwing her arms around her girlfriend—and oh, the fact that she can refer to Byulyi this way again makes a satisfying thrill run through her. 

Her girlfriend, her soulmate, her person. 

“Thank you, Byulyi,” she whispers. “I just—thank you. For everything. I love you a lot.” 

Byulyi's reply by her ear is quiet but firm. “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I actually live on hurt/comfort… 🥴🥴 Please recommend me good moonsun h/c fics if you know of any, because the number of fics in the moonsun h/c tag on ao3 is criminally!! low!! and I feel so starved!!!!


End file.
